One in a Million

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One in a Million Page 18

by Jill Shalvis


  When she came out a moment later, he was sorely disappointed to find her wrapped in a towel.

  Still the hottest thing he’d ever seen. He watched every move she made, wanting to fully take in this moment. Just in case he never got another moment like it with her.

  Carefully not meeting his gaze, she strode to her dresser and pulled out some undies. Then she made his day even better by attempting to pull them on without revealing herself to him.

  Sitting up to better see the show, he shoved a pillow behind his head and made himself comfortable.

  When the towel dropped for the second time, he grinned from ear to ear. “So is there any fancy lingerie at all?” he asked. “That stuff you claim is such a crucial part of keeping the romance alive between the sheets—and out of them.”

  “What did I tell you about reading my site?” she demanded.

  He grinned.

  “I mean it,” she said, pointing at him. “It’s all crap. Don’t read my crap.”

  Laughing, he reached out and tugged her back down onto the bed, pinning her beneath him. When she struggled and sputtered, he grabbed her wrists and pulled them above her head.

  She blew a strand of hair from her face. “What’s with all the Fifty Shades moves?”

  He made himself at home between her thighs. “Did you do your…morning stuff?”

  She blushed. “Yes.”

  “All good?”

  “Yes. But you’re cuffing my hands.”

  “It’s so you won’t distract me from doing my stuff,” he said.

  And then he proceeded to show her exactly what that stuff was.

  In slow, great detail.

  Twice.

  Chapter 17

  Tanner got to the harbor at the same time as Sam, who took one look at his face and nodded. “Good, you finally got laid. I hope to hell it was good enough to keep you in a better mood for a while.”

  “I’m always in a good mood,” Tanner said.

  “Yeah, you’re a regular ray of fucking sunshine.” Sam rolled his eyes. “I assume you groveled and made up for your bone-headed move from last night at the bar, right? Oh, and you might want to stay off Tumblr. Lucille’s got a new poll up. She’s asking who’d be a good match for Callie other than you, since you proved yourself unworthy last night.”

  “Shit,” Tanner muttered.

  Sam laughed.

  “Thanks for the sympathy,” Tanner said.

  Sam’s grin never faltered. “Is that what you felt for me when I was so screwed up over Becca? Sympathy?”

  “Yeah, well, you were an idiot.”

  “Uh-huh,” Sam said.

  “You saying I’m an idiot?” Tanner asked.

  “No, I’m saying you’re a fucking idiot.” Sam pulled out his keys to let himself into their warehouse. “My dad here yet?”

  “He just got here too,” Tanner said. “How is he?” Mark was fighting liver disease and hopefully doing a good job of it.

  “Stubborn as hell,” Sam said.

  “He’s sticking around,” Tanner said. “That’s something.”

  “He’s got nothing better to do.”

  They both stopped when a car pulled into the lot. It was Elisa and Troy.

  “How’s the kid?” Sam asked.

  “Stubborn as hell.”

  Sam laughed again. “He’s sticking around,” he said, mirroring Tanner’s words. “That’s something.”

  “He has to stick,” Tanner said. “He’s fifteen. And maybe he’s not bleeding me dry like Mark does to you, but he’s got a way of sucking the soul right out of a room.”

  “Yeah,” Sam said. “It’s called being a teenager.”

  As if proving the point, Troy slammed out of his mother’s car and started to walk right by Sam and Tanner.

  Tanner stopped him. “Hey. Morning.”

  Troy grunted.

  “How was last night with your grandparents?”

  Another grunt.

  Tanner remembered mornings with his mom when he’d been fifteen. But if he’d tried to ignore her with nothing more than an unintelligible caveman sound, she’d have smacked him right upside the head. “Problem?”

  Elisa rolled down her window. “Did he tell you the good news?” she asked Tanner.

  Feeling Troy shift to make his escape into the warehouse, Tanner took a handful of the back of the kid’s sweatshirt and leaned down a little to meet Elisa’s gaze. “We were just getting to it.”

  Elisa smiled. “He’s thrilled.”

  “Yes,” Tanner said with a side glance at Troy. “I can see that.”

  “Have a good time,” she said, oblivious. “I’ll see you next week.”

  And then she drove off.

  Next week? Tanner and Sam exchanged WTF looks and then Tanner turned to Troy. “What’s going on?”

  “She’s dumped me on you for another week.”

  “Works for me,” Tanner said. But if he was getting Troy for another week, it meant Elisa had some sort of ulterior motive. “How did this come about?”

  Troy shrugged.

  “Words,” Tanner said. “For the love of God, man, use your words. I’m out of practice with the emo shrugging shit.”

  “Her boyfriend wants her to go to Catalina Island with him for a week,” Troy said.

  That’ll do it.

  Sam blew out a breath, looking ticked off into the direction where Elisa’s car had just vanished.

  Tanner was ticked off too. Not because he’d have to spend time with the kid. He wanted that. He wanted that more than he wanted his next breath. What he didn’t want was Elisa making Troy feel like an unwanted piece of luggage. He looked at the kid standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders hunched.

  Pissed off at the world.

  Yeah. Tanner got that. Hell, he’d been there, done that. He’d been younger when his own dad had walked away and not looked back, but he’d never forgotten that feeling. “You didn’t get dumped on me,” he told Troy.

  “You just saw me get dumped here.”

  “It’s not being dumped if I want you here.” He looked at his watch.

  Troy hunched deeper into his pockets. “I can walk to school.”

  “I was looking to see how much time we had. Come on.” Tanner started off toward the dock.

  Sam was already ahead of him and hopped on board, heading for the tie-downs.

  When Tanner realized Troy wasn’t following, he glanced back. “You coming or not?”

  Troy stood there on the docks, jaw locked, face tight. The anger of a full-grown man, the defiance of a teen who needed some guidelines. “For what?” he asked, attitude snapping in each word.

  “Two options,” Tanner said. “Consider it a multiple choice. A, you can walk to school, or B, you can drive yourself.”

  “Or C,” Sam added. “You can stand there and brood.”

  Tanner nodded his approval. True enough.

  “Don’t have my permit yet,” Troy said.

  “Don’t need a permit for the boat,” Tanner told him.

  The kid’s eyes went wide and he forgot to maintain his ’tude. “You’re going to let me drive the boat to school?”

  “I’m going to teach you how to drive the boat. It’s not easy,” he warned when Troy forgot to hold on to his bad attitude and whooped. “In fact, it can be dangerous as hell. And it’s going to take a lot more than just this one lesson. It’s going to take dedication and hard work.” Tanner moved to the controls, gesturing Troy close.

  When the kid leapt forward, Tanner pointed to all the gauges and levers. “Every single move you make behind the wheel needs to be well thought out and calculated because every move has an effect, one that can’t always be changed—at least not in a timely fashion. You get me?”

  Troy looked at the control panel and then out to the horizon in front of them. “You’re telling me not to be hotheaded.”

  Tanner nodded. “That’s what I’m telling you. So you in or out?”

  “In,” Tr
oy said. “All the way in.”

  “Me too,” Tanner said.

  Troy turned his head and met his dad’s gaze. A long beat went by, during which time it seemed that Troy was searching for the truth in Tanner’s simple statement.

  Tanner waited for it to sink in.

  Finally Troy nodded. They were both all the way in. For better or worse.

  It was nice but Tanner wasn’t fooled. There would be worse. But they’d handle it. Together. And for the first time he actually believed that there’d be a chance to do just that.

  Chapter 18

  Callie did her best to distract herself from memories of the most sensuous, erotic night of her life. It wasn’t easy. She had questions. Such as did Tanner have regrets? Did he feel differently about her now that he’d had his merry way with her, several times over?

  Work helped. She was on crazy bride alert for several clients and their upcoming weddings. She spent an entire day talking brides off the ledge. One lost her venue to a flood, and Callie had to find another with twenty-four hours’ notice. Another lost her groom to cold feet. Callie had way too much experience there as well.

  That night she fell into bed early and was fantasizing about Tanner showing up to strip her out of her PJs and show her some new “stuff” when a knock sounded at her door.

  She peeked through the peephole and went still. Speaking of the devil.

  When she pulled open the door, he was arms up on the doorjamb, head down.

  “Hey,” she said a little breathlessly.

  He lifted his head. “Hey. You busy?”

  She had a choice here. The safe choice—which was to say yes. It would keep her heart protected.

  And there was the unsafe choice. The scary choice. The one that would keep her up all night and give her multiple orgasms. “Not busy at all,” she said. “Where’s Troy?”

  “In bed. In his dark purple room.”

  “You left him alone?”

  “He’s fifteen. Plus Sam came over to play on our Xbox. I’ve got an hour. Or two.” He stepped toward her, and she lifted her face, expecting a scorching-hot kiss to kick off their hour or two.

  Instead he ran a hand down her hair and then just pulled her in and hugged her, pressing a kiss to her temple, letting out a long sigh.

  He wasn’t here just for a booty call, she realized. He was here for…comfort?

  He’d certainly given her comfort, more than a few times now. But he’d never sought it from her before. Until now.

  Her heart swelled and she pulled him in further so she could shut the door. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  Liar. She could feel his exhaustion and worry. “You hungry?”

  He lifted a shoulder. Just like a man. She took him by the hand to her kitchen and made them French toast.

  He ate every bite.

  “Tell me what’s wrong, Tanner,” she said softly, running a hand up his arm, past his rock-hard bicep to the nape of his neck. When her fingers glided into his hair, he let out a rough groan of pleasure and dropped his head forward to give her better access. “Is it Troy?” she asked quietly, massaging his scalp and neck.

  “Something’s up with him,” he said. “Can’t get him to ’fess up.”

  “Like father, like son,” she said with a quiet smile.

  He gave a low laugh. “You might be right.”

  “What can I do?” she asked.

  Lifting his head, he met her gaze. “You’re doing it.”

  She took him to her bed. She would give him the comfort he sought. She’d give him whatever she could.

  Always.

  That last thought was just a little too far outside her comfort zone so she shoved it to the dim recesses of her mind, to a compartment labeled “future worries.”

  A week later, Callie was exhausted from long days working on some new wedding site designs. And also, maybe, from deliciously long nights in Tanner’s arms.

  He usually showed up late, after Troy was in bed, and stayed a few hours. Long enough for a talk over a late snack and some laughs, and then…

  She sighed dreamily. The “and thens” had been amazing. Her musings on this were disrupted by a Skype call from another distraught bride.

  “It’s black tie,” she wailed. “And my mother-in-law wants to wear a pantsuit. You just know it’ll be in some horrid shade of green that will clash with the chartreuse bridesmaid dresses.”

  Not for the first time, Callie reminded herself that most brides went off the rails at some point and she’d been there herself, so no judgment. “I’ll call her for you,” Callie said, fingers pounding away on her laptop. “I’ve got two bridal shops within five miles of her house. We’ll get her in something off the rack that works, no worries.”

  When she disconnected, her stomach growled and she realized it was late afternoon and she’d skipped lunch. She texted her grandma: Hungry?

  Starving.

  Callie grabbed her purse and hit the road. She was on her way to her grandma’s house when she saw Troy walking along the highway. She pulled over and rolled down her window. “Hey,” she said. “No bus?”

  “Missed it.”

  “Need a ride?”

  He hesitated and then shook his head.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said. “And I’m the Easter Bunny.”

  “The Easter Bunny carries candy.”

  “Well, you’ve got me there,” she said. “I don’t have any candy. And if I did, that would be highly frowned upon, me luring you into my car with candy.”

  He snorted.

 

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